


Intruder

by TheSilentUnderworld



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, but then slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilentUnderworld/pseuds/TheSilentUnderworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The government need's to be vigilant at all hours of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

Being watched can be terrifying. When it came to anyone important anywhere unimportant, it almost always was.

He was an important man and he was somewhere unassuming, somewhere no one should be able to be watching; his bedroom.

He felt the tingle up his spine. A small creaking of floorboards had awoken him. And the more pitch spot in the blackness of his sleeping quarters had confirmed it.

He felt the gaze of the unknown run along his skin like the it’s owner were deciding what artery to strike.

They might just have been.

It was a gurgle almost, bloody and animalistic, and only vaguely in the understandable realm.

They  _growled_. Intimidation at it’s finest, the noise that reverberated through the large room was low, and deep, and grander than it’s owner.

The important man refused to move from his bed as he heard the owner of the voice approach with subdued, almost soundless steps.

He was not paralyzed in fear.

A man like him didn’t have the time of day to be caught up in something as primal as fear.

So it seemed these two forces were sizing each other up in the dark silence that followed.

The terrible, guttural voice had a leg up in this situation. It could pounce on the vulnerable man, easily overtaking him, if it played it’s cards right.

But the important and clean cut victim was not to be written off. He was sitting in that silence calculating. He had an umbrella next to the bed, a gun under it, a lamp off to the side. He knew the umbrella was the quickest draw.

And the silence was broken by both forces at the same instant. Air displaced as the primal creature from the dark jumped forwards to pin the importance below, who had gone for the close lying umbrella.

No one completed their task first.

The umbrella came to the primal things chest seconds after it landed on the important one, and only detoured the forces hands from meeting the pristine and supple neck of the once sleeping form.

There was a moment where they both pushed against the umbrella, but it became obvious that the intruding force was, as name would imply, the stronger.

It put the umbrella to the important mans neck, and pushed down on the below’s jugular.

Air escaped him, gasps ensued, and a fragment of a word slipped out of his gritting teeth.

"H-hail marr-ry"

And all motions stopped. No, the force was not dispelled in a holy flame, oh, no this was anything but holy.

Safe word.

The man on top, the once rage filled primal being, slid the umbrella over, and leaned to turn the bedside lamp on.

Greg lestrade.

The important, civilized man rubbed his neck, and sat up in the bed. He had expected a different fight, different time or setting. Not neciserily a less violent one.

Mycroft Holmes.

And they shared a look before one of them giggled, Greg, of course.

"Your a pansy."

The slightly younger Holmes furrowed his brow and scoffed in response.

"No- I was asleep. You can not really expect-"

His words were cut short by the silver haired mans as he slid to lie beside him, relocating the umbrella back to the floor.

"You can’t expect a bad guy to be accommodating of your sleep schedule, either."

Which was true, and Mycroft knew it.

"Touché." He rested his contention, and turned the light off next too them with a small smile. "Let us try again in the morning. Maybe that one will lead to a more… Rousing result."


	2. Love; If You Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's prediction for a 'more rousing result in the morning' comes true.

Waking him was the low hum of the outside world and its busy ways. People in the distance started off to work, forgetting something most assuredly at home or on the car roof, goldfish as they were. There was also a softly breathing warmth next to him; also a goldfish- but  _his_  goldfish.

And  then, before he was able to realize it, his goldfish was up and spry, on top of him in seconds.

"Good morning~" Greg grinned down at the larger man under him. Larger; not more dominant. But certainly no one’s pet. The Government had no time to be anyone’s pet. He was too smart to be put in that position; unless he chose to be, that is.

"Gregory?" Mycroft’s brow furrowed, not alarmed enough to take action but just enough to ask.

" ‘hope for a more rousing result in the morning’ or what have you." Greg mixed Mycroft’s words from the night before, joke or not it was his message.

Before Greg knew it his arms had been pushed to the side and the power balance shifted entirely. Mycroft now looked down at the Detective Inspector with a low, devilish grin.

There was an unspoken moment where Greg and Mycroft gave each other  _looks,_  very specific and enticing ones that Mycroft might be fired for were they given in public, before Greg kissed Mycroft mad. Whether Mycroft had been literal the night before or not was washed away in the pepper of kisses that Greg had long ago promised to lay on each of Mycroft’s freckles.

The lips to skin moved down and all over and bodies shifted like a badly choreographed dace, it was too early to be graceful. But soon, and against all odds, there was a rhythm between the two. The most powerful man in England and the only person who could ever claim control of such a creature; even if it was only when said creature granted him the privilege, moving in waves of not quite lust and not quite romance.

It was a settled thing. Patterns in the pattern-less mess that was their schedules. Lazy morning ruts like this.

Love; if you will.

Before either of them knew it they were both at their wicks end, and oh how it went out in flames. Gasps and moans, murmurs and lovely lies. ‘Always’ was common in their fraternization ‘always yours’ Gregory tended to repeat.

But they both knew either of them could be taken or lost any day to leave the other once again alone.

They didn’t talk about this possibility, no matter how close it loomed or pertinent it seemed.

Because right here, right now, mixed in sweet stained bed sheets and entwined in each other’s grasps; they were together.

And that’s all that mattered.


End file.
